The last time I wrote a poem, it was called Lonely & Dejected, which was in fact sparked by an incident. I did pen down a few more lines about being lonesome after I had published the poem, lines I had written down over a week. Nothing great about these little lines and no I am no longer lonely and dejected. But I found a piece of crumpled paper that contained this poem I had penned down in class and decided to publish it before i lost it. So here it goes,
Lonesome Again
Why is it that I feel so lonely,
every step in life that I take so boldly?
In an ocean of people I feel left out;
But it isn't something for which I'll pout.
Is it so that I don't fit in?
'cause I feel left out amongst friends n kin.
The more time I spend with a friend,
the more I feel the friendship end.
No explanation can ever suffice,
as to why does friendship slide over thin ice.
Do others feel the same or is it me only?
Am I the only one who feels so lonely?
every step in life that I take so boldly?
In an ocean of people I feel left out;
But it isn't something for which I'll pout.
Is it so that I don't fit in?
'cause I feel left out amongst friends n kin.
The more time I spend with a friend,
the more I feel the friendship end.
No explanation can ever suffice,
as to why does friendship slide over thin ice.
Do others feel the same or is it me only?
Am I the only one who feels so lonely?
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